


friendsgiving 2012

by stonerbughead



Series: do you like or like like me? [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, Fluff, Found Family Vibes, Friendship, Reunions, Smut, Thanksgiving, and a variety of home-from-college feels, field hockey, the usual anti-imperial sentiments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29230764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonerbughead/pseuds/stonerbughead
Summary: Betty and Jughead drive from Boston to Riverdale for their first Thanksgiving back from college, only to find that both the Cooper house and the Jones trailer are empty.ado you like or like like me?coda
Relationships: Betty Cooper & Toni Topaz, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Kevin Keller/Moose Mason (background)
Series: do you like or like like me? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937776
Comments: 13
Kudos: 56





	friendsgiving 2012

**Author's Note:**

> the long-awaited thanksgiving coda, that i finally just gave up and decided to split into two chapters.
> 
> This takes place, of course, a few months after where chapter 4 of do you like or like like me? leaves off. (the epilogue is set ~three years after this installment.)
> 
> TLDR: in honor of my 27th birthday and my love for the bughead fandom that helped me make it through another year...here’s a surprise from me. muah!
> 
> all the love, Maria

  
  


for your optional listening pleasure: [friendsgiving 2012: the spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1jpfhjBvJ05vd46CgNU0sQ)  
  


* * *

_Remember walking a mile to your house, a glow in the dark_

_I made a fumblin' play for your heart and the extra, the spark_

_You wore a charm in the chain that I stole especially for you_

_Love's such a delicate thing that we do, we've nothing to prove_

_Which I never knew_

(the shins, 2012) 

* * *

  


_**november 2012** _

The cold air whips Betty’s face as she tightens her scarf around her body and leans back against the car, waiting for Jughead to emerge from the rest stop store with an inevitable stash of snacks. 

(As he’d said—well, more like whined—ten minutes earlier when Betty pulled into the parking lot: “I _need_ this, Betts.”)

Betty takes a deep breath in, holds, and lets it out, Pepper’s voice now joined by the pure honey of her new counselor she’s been seeing on campus. With Dr. Glass, she’s learned that some sources of her anxiety she can identify—and others are seemingly random, little pinpricks in her chest that appear at the worst times.

This time, however, is the former: after nearly four full months away, Betty and Jughead are returning to Riverdale for Thanksgiving.

Some might think they waited until Wednesday night to delay the inevitable, but truthfully Jughead’s campus library shift on Tuesday night did them in. Betty packed her things in the trunk the night before and drove the car across town to meet Jughead just after he got off, folding her body into his arms as they tried to sleep and listed worries about their homecoming as if they were counting sheep. (His roommate, like most of the Boston metro area, had already departed the city for Thanksgiving break.) 

Betty grins at the sight of Jughead finally emerging from the smudged doors of the convenience store, a plastic bag swinging from his arm as he bounds across the lot toward her.

“Hey, you,” he says when he’s within earshot. “What are you doing waiting out here? You look cold.”

Betty shrugs, though she quickly turns to climb into the driver’s seat. “I think I’m getting more used to the cold.”

Jughead laughs heartily, shutting the passenger side door behind him gently. Betty’s always amazed by how gentle he can be with things. She knows she can be harder, rough around the edges, and she’s always floored that he’s not only willing to put up with her but seems to think she’s beautiful. 

“Your thoughts could not be louder,” Jughead jokes. 

Betty fastens the seatbelt across her chest, smiling fondly at the sound of Jughead crinkling open a bag of chips.

“Just one hour till Riverdale,” Betty says by explanation, face turned away as she navigates the car back onto the road. 

“You’re nervous,” Jughead says, a statement rather than a question, before shoving a couple chips in his mouth. 

Betty shrugs. “I’m nervous to...see Alice more than anything else, I think. And I guess just...Riverdale itself. Afraid I’ll fall back into bad habits.”

Jughead shakes his head, reaching across the cup holder where her hand dangles to grab it in his own.

“You won’t,” he says, like a promise. “We’ll make sure of it.”

Betty smiles softly, buoyed by the feel of his palm. “Thanks,” she says.

They crawl to a stop on the highway, just a strip of packed cars left to the same last-minute holiday travel.

“I’m excited to have you a bit more to myself for a few days,” Betty confesses, squeezing Jughead’s hand.

He grins. “Me too. We can finally just...be.”

It’s true that, though they see each other once—sometimes twice—a week, they only have so many hours to devote to each other within the confines of college life. 

In a good way, they’ve each managed to immerse themselves in their individual college experiences, otherwise relying on phone calls and texts to fill in the gaps. On the days they do get to see each other, they’ve already had a handful of memorable weekend adventures in their new city. 

However, the passionate reunion sex they once imagined having on such weekends has been sullied by roommates who are seemingly always home. After a few instances of hurried, bumpy twin-XL sex, they decided to use their car and got creative—finding somewhere to _park_ is foundational to their relationship, after all. Now that they’re headed back to Riverdale, the one thing Betty realizes she truly misses is her comfy, queen-size bed. 

“I can’t wait,” Betty says, and Jughead smirks at her, like he knows exactly what she’s thinking.

“Pay attention to the road, horny,” Jughead quips before leaning over to change the song on the aux cord, laughing at Betty’s gasp of mock outrage. 

They creep past a familiar road sign, jerking to a stop for long enough to make out the faded white words. Betty tries to ignore the swooping in her stomach: _20 miles to Riverdale._

.

.

.

“It’s gonna be okay, Betts,” Jughead says gently, right around the time they pass the place where Betty had first spotted FP’s truck a little over a year earlier. 

“I know,” she says through gritted teeth, though she’s sure she hasn’t convinced Jughead one bit.

The plan is simple. (Betty finds it easier to have a plan to follow, always.) First, Betty and Jughead will stop at the trailer to say “hey” to FP, even though Jughead fully plans to sleep in Betty’s room if he can get away with it. Then, she’ll face Alice Cooper. 

When they finally pull up to the trailer, Betty realizes how tightly she’s been gripping the steering wheel. “Sorry,” she blurts out, wincing a little. 

(This is a habit her therapist says she should try to break; she apologizes far too often, an unfortunate byproduct of being raised by a woman as severe and rigid as the Alice Cooper of Betty’s youth.)

“Don’t be sorry,” Jughead says with a teasing smile and a reassuring tone that settles Betty’s stomach. She lets out a deep breath as she cuts the engine and follows Jughead out of their car. The familiar feel of gravel underneath her feet makes Betty’s stomach swoop with something that feels like _home,_ something she wasn’t sure she’d be capable of feeling about a place she wanted to escape for so many years.

“Feels different, doesn’t it?” Jughead says, pulling Betty out of her inner musings.

“Being back here after months away?” Betty asks, looking up to find Jughead already trudging toward the front door, fishing his keychain off his belt loop. 

“Yes...and no,” Jughead murmurs, turning to shoot her a comforting smile. Betty furrows her brow and follows him up the steps, watching him jiggle the door handle.

“Finicky, as always,” he mutters and she giggles, so familiar is this routine they’ve stumbled into. 

Betty turns to gaze across the trailer park, at the mostly quiet homes, standing tall and unbothered in the late November chill. She hears the lock click followed immediately by Jughead’s sigh of relief, and only upon her final glance across the lot does she notice that FP’s truck is absent from the driveway.

She follows Jughead inside, where his now-futile calls of “Dad?” have fallen on a silent trailer. Betty stands in the living room, frowning as Jughead emerges from the bedroom with a confused expression across his face. “He’s not here,” he says, a gruffness in his tone that feels all too familiar when it comes to all matters FP Jones.

“I didn’t see your dad’s truck outside,” Betty blurts out, unsure if this is even helpful. She’s sure he noticed that before she did, after all, so caught up in her own thoughts.

“The bike’s gone too,” Jughead says with a sigh, sitting down on the couch and shoving a hand through his hair in exasperation. 

“Do you...do you want to call him?” Betty asks, that familiar feeling of dread creeping into her stomach. And they’ve only been back in Riverdale for a few minutes.

“No, it’s fine,” Jughead says, his tone suddenly shifting, more confused than annoyed. “I’m not gonna let FP Jones ruin another holiday.” 

He comes to meet Betty where she still stands in the kitchen. She’s immediately comforted by the way he grabs her hands and reassures her, “I’m just gonna go grab a few warmer sweaters I wanted to make sure to bring back to Boston, and we can go home to your place. We’ll figure this out on the way.” 

Betty nods, the gentle yet firm tone of Jughead’s voice bringing her on board this amended plan immediately. “Sounds good, Jug,” she says, accepting his soft kiss with her eyes fluttering closed, just as magic as the first time. 

“I’ll be quick,” he says, already darting back down the hall by the time Betty finally reopens her eyes. 

“Take your time!” she calls, though she knows it’s in vain.

Indeed, he emerges from his teenage bedroom within five minutes, pulling his phone out of his pocket after locking up the trailer door behind them. 

Betty returns to the driver’s seat, neither of them moving to turn the music back on as she pulls back out of Sunnyside Trailer Park. Instead, they have a frustrated ride across town, Jughead punching in his dad’s number and growing increasingly annoyed the longer the phone rings. 

* * *

By the time they pull up to the Cooper house, Jughead has called four times, gotten voicemail once, and then finally made contact just a block before Elm Street. (Betty’s surprised eyes and enthusiastic thumbs-up nearly made Jughead burst out laughing at the worst possible time.)

“What do you need, Jug?” FP says on the other end, his voice gruff and the unmistakable sound of heavy traffic in the background.

“Where are you?” Jughead responds, attempting to wave off Betty’s concerned jolt as she nears the house. _Be safe_ , he tries to plead to Betty with his eyes, grateful when they finally come to a stop outside her always-pristine childhood home.

“I’m on my way to Toledo, boy!” FP says, like it’s obvious, and _how the fuck is_ FP _the one who’s annoyed right now?_

“I thought you were gonna be home,” Jughead says, the very words suddenly sounding stupid as they come out of his mouth. “I just got home for Thanksgiving break.”

“Wait...you...fuck,” his dad says, and Jughead is surprised at how genuinely guilty he sounds. “I’m sorry, Jug, I thought we talked about this. Didn’t you say you were spending the day with Betty’s family? Since...uh, your mom and I still haven’t quite hammered out all the paperwork yet...I have to come to Ohio to see your sister.” He pauses, as if he expects Jughead to say something back, but all he can manage right now is heavy breathing. He turns to give Betty a grateful look at the feel of her warm hand on his shoulder. 

“I wanted to ask you to come with me,” FP says, his voice sounding almost like a plea now. “But I thought you had other plans. I…”

“It’s okay, Dad,” Jughead says, already tired of this conversation. He’s heard a million excuses a million times before. At least this time one of the two Jones kids will get to see their dad for the holiday. 

“How long will you be in Riverdale for? Maybe I can come back early…”

Jughead shakes his head, before realizing stupidly that his dad can't see him. “No, no, that’s okay. Go see Jellybean. I know things are...hard during the divorce proceedings while JB’s a minor.” 

FP coughs on the other line, and Jughead knows his frank discussion of the divorce has made his dad uncomfortable. _But we're all adults here now, right?_ Jughead thinks, his new nineteen-year-old hubris something he is wincing a bit at internally himself.

“I’ll see you at Christmas, okay?” 

“Alright,” FP says with his usual, defeated sigh. “Tell Betty and Alice I say ‘hi.’” 

“Will do,” Jughead says with a gulp, and then it’s over. He turns to Betty. “He’s on his way to Toledo to see Jellybean,” he says, and Betty nods.

“I got most of that,” she admits guiltily, and that look on her face has Jughead laughing. He reaches for her face and kisses her, long and hard, a reminder that he still has the most important member of his family here with him. 

“Well,” Betty says with a half-sarcastic tone. “I’m sure Alice Cooper would be more than happy to accommodate you for this joyous holiday.”

“Oh, I am so sure,” Jughead says, playing along as they unpack their bags from the car and start up the walk. 

* * *

But there’s no one waiting in the Cooper house to greet them either.

The garage is empty, the beds in each room made up perfectly. Betty frowns, half-expecting Polly or Charles to come running down the stairs. Warm hugs and “let me grab your bag!” and “tell me _everything_ about Boston.” But that feels like a fantasy, some movie-version of her life that will never come to fruition. If Betty’s being honest, she can’t remember the last time her whole family was even in the same room together.

“Is this the first act of a horror movie?” Jughead quips as they circle back to the living room, where they’d abandoned their bags after opening the door to silence. 

Betty laughs. “Don’t jinx it, Jug,” she says, pulling her iPhone out of her jean pocket and clicking on her mom’s contact photo before she can talk herself out of it.

Alice picks up on the second ring. “Betty, dear!” she chirps, and Betty knows immediately that she must be with her boyfriend, who Betty and Jughead secretly refer to as Mr. Wonderful since the first time they met him last spring.

Betty bites her lip, feeling deja vu from literally ten minutes ago as she asks, “Where are you?”

“What do you mean? I’m at Steven’s sister’s for Thanksgiving, dear. How’s Ohio? Did you arrive safely?”

“Ohio?” Betty asks incredulously, and she hears Jughead stifle a laugh. 

“I...I thought you said you were spending the day with Jug-Head,” Alice replies, the tone in her voice making Betty want to throw her phone across the room. 

“Yeah,” she says, trying to process this turn of events, mentally cataloguing where the rest of her family is. _Hal is off with his girlfriend on some island vacation, Charles is on a hiking trip with some friends, and Polly is almost certainly spending it with her latest beau, though only 99% sure on that one._ “I _am_ spending it with Jughead. Just...we’re in Riverdale, not Toledo.” 

As Alice starts apologizing and making super shitty-sounding excuses, Betty tunes her out completely as her mind starts to race. _This is fairly typical, huh? Honestly, I should’ve expected it._ Somehow, the last time Betty talked to Alice, Alice _must_ have interpreted that Betty was spending the holiday with Jughead and FP—and FP vice versa. It’s true that neither of their parents had been _particularly_ detailed about Thanksgiving plans; after all, Betty and Jug had been satisfied with just enough knowledge to confirm they could finagle a way to spend at least some of the day together. But this? Two empty houses, no family around for miles? It’s not exactly what they expected, but...

“Wait, maybe this isn’t the worst thing in the world, Jug,” Betty says when she finally hangs up with a somewhat-apologetic Alice. She thinks again of the image of her siblings running down the stairs to greet her, of a table surrounded by loved ones, and she immediately has an idea.

“Just the two of us and a house to defile?” Jughead guesses, pressing her against the counter. (He, apparently, has other ideas.)

Betty laughs, biting her lip as he lets his tongue run along her exposed collarbone. “I mean, _yes_ , very much that.” She moans a little as he moves his lips along her skin. With some difficulty, Betty regains control of the situation and huffs out: “But also, the whole Cooper house to ourselves over Thanksgiving weekend? We should throw a Friendsgiving!”

Jughead sighs. “I’m doing some of my best work right now, Betty, and you’re talking about adding more people to the equation?” 

Betty giggles, grabbing his chin gently in her hand to slow things down. “We’ll still be alone here for five days, Jug. But when else will we get the chance to have our friends here with no adult supervision over a college holiday? It totally beats small talk with the in-laws, you gotta admit.”

Jughead sighs, clearly fighting with the part of himself that confessed last night to Betty that he craved isolation after the unending togetherness of being a college freshman. 

“Okay, you may have a point,” he says. “But how many people are we talkin’ here?”

Betty smiles excitedly, waving her hand to dismiss his concern. “Only people we like, I promise.”

She leans up and kisses him, her hands threading in his hair. The air feels charged again, the fact of their solitude fueling their kisses, which quickly become heated. Jughead grabs her breasts over her sweater and Betty groans appreciatively, watching Jughead kiss down her body. He raises his eyebrows, an unspoken question to finish what they started earlier. 

She nods, biting her lip at the rush of cold that comes over her when Jughead peels her jeans down her legs and tugs the thin fabric of her underwear aside. His thumb runs over her clit at the same time his tongue meets her pussy, and Betty screams.

She almost gasps, before remembering there’s _no one here._

“Be as loud as you want, baby,” Jughead whispers, the words vibrating over her pussy before he dives back in, and Betty moans, gripping the counter as the pleasure builds.

They’ve still been having sex less than a year technically, a fact that is hard to believe as Betty’s legs practically buckle underneath her, causing Jughead to reinforce her with his arms—those strong arms, _oh God this is so hot_ —as she bucks her pussy toward his face. 

Somewhere in the haze of her orgasm, Betty remembers a dream she had last winter, the type that had her waking up and touching herself back to sleep. It had starred Jughead, of course, on his knees in the Cooper kitchen, making her scream. She remembers telling him about it the next time they fucked, laying side by side afterwards. He’d grinned, playing with Betty’s fingers as he listened, clearly fascinated by the fantasy. 

“Fuck, Jug,” she whispers now, Jughead pulling back from her center as she finally comes down. 

He pushes himself back up to full length and smirks at her, leaning down to kiss her long and hard. When they pull back, Betty whispers, “You remembered?”

Jughead scoffs. “Betty, you know I remember everything.”

She grins. “And that’s why I love you.”

“Love you too,” he says, dropping another sweet kiss on her mouth. “Now excuse me, but I need some water.” 

He crosses the kitchen toward the refrigerator as, still a little shaky, Betty pulls her underwear and jeans back on, washing her hands in the sink for good measure before dialing Toni’s number. 

(Betty knows that Toni has very loose plans with Fangs and Sweet Pea, per her usual anti-imperialist tradition, and is hoping that means she’ll be immediately amenable to joining together their celebrations.) 

“Guess where I am right now?”

From where Jughead is now washing his hands in the kitchen sink, he looks up and shoots her an insufferable smirk. She sticks her tongue out at him in retaliation as Toni replies, “I assumed you and Jones wouldn’t surface till Friday to be completely honest.”

Betty laughs. “Oh come on, we’re not that bad!”

“Hey no judgment, sister, you know I love you guys. And I am standing on the Southside of Riverdale as we speak.”

“Well, _I_ am on the Northside of Riverdale as we speak!” Betty confirms, her stomach clenching with excitement at the thought of seeing Toni again. “And...I’m standing in a completely empty house.”

Toni laughs. “Wait, what? Are you telling me that Mama Coop left you with an empty Northside house for the weekend?”

“I am telling you that, yes,” Betty says, laughing at Toni’s excited cheers over the phone. “So what I’m asking is, do you and Fangs and Sweets wanna come here tomorrow for some Friendsgiving celebrations?” 

“Abso-fucking-lutely. This totally beats our plans to order Chinese and watch as many Harry Potters as we can stand to watch back to back.”

“Yes!” Betty squeals. “So excited to see you. So, what should we _cook_?”

Toni is immediately full of ideas, and Betty remembers why she’s missed her so much.

* * *

Jughead sits on the couch in the living room, tapping his feet against the pristine hardwood floors as he waits for Betty to hang up with Toni. From what he can gather, they’re nailing down a menu and potential guest list—he’d been asked to weigh in on whether or not to invite Cheryl—before his growling stomach makes him too impatient to wait any longer.

“Betty!” he whines.

Betty turns around from where she’s pacing around the kitchen. “Yeah?”

“I’m hungry,” Jughead says. “Can we please get Pop’s?”

Betty laughs, rolling her eyes a little in that familiar “oh, Jughead” way. “Hey, Toni? How about we finish this conversation after dinner. Meet at the grocery store, get the last provisions we need?” She smiles and laughs at something Toni says, and then finally Jughead has his girlfriend all to himself again. 

He stands up to meet her, throwing his arms around her shoulders. “You excited?”

“Very,” Betty says, reaching up to kiss him just as her stomach grumbles audibly too.

They both pull back, laughing hysterically. Betty sighs, reaching for the car keys where she’d strewn them on the counter. “Let’s go to Pop’s.”

.

.

.

Jughead pauses as they step out of their car, one arm pressed against the roof as he stares up at the familiar Pop’s sign. He vaguely registers the sound of the passenger-side door shutting behind Betty, followed seconds later by the feel of her arms wrapping around his middle.

“Whatcha thinking about, Broody?” she teases, nipping a kiss to the side of his neck.

Jughead closes his eyes so there’s nothing left but her touch and the tickle of her breath against his ear. They could be anywhere—meeting up outside the Lesley campus library or waiting to be seated at a restaurant in Cambridge, wrapped up in the safety of their shared car or standing next to a rest stop in Connecticut on a stretch of highway somewhere between here and Boston.

 _I’m nervous,_ he thinks, turning around and pulling Betty to him more fully, backs pressed against the car as they do nothing but drink in each other’s warmth. 

Betty pulls away first, grabbing his chin in her hand and forcing him to look into her wide, concerned eyes. “Are you okay?” she says, barely a whisper.

Jughead “nod-shrugs,” a habit that Betty recently identified as “his signature move” before devolving into stoned giggles, one long evening spent walking around Betty’s campus in mid-October. 

She grins, and he knows she’s thinking of it too.

“What we talked about earlier? I’m a little nervous too,” Jughead admits to her. “To see people again. To be...back here.”

Betty nods immediately, face brightening with understanding. “Do you...want to go somewhere else? Somewhere we’re less likely to run into people we know?”

Jughead frowns, considering. Betty watches him for a minute, before shifting in his arms as she glances around the parking lot, seemingly searching for anyone they know. “All clear,” she jokes when she turns back to Jughead to find him now watching _her_. 

He can’t stop thinking of all the times over the past three months—whether on the phone while they each do homework in their respective dorm rooms or on weekend afternoons spent exploring Boston in the fall foliage—that Betty and Jughead have stopped and said, “This would be perfect...if only we could have Pop’s right now.”

“We have to brave the masses,” Jughead says now, and Betty laughs.

“Can’t live another minute without your Pop’s burger?” she guesses and he nods sheepishly. 

“That, and I really miss Pop Tate,” Jughead replies. 

Betty nods enthusiastically. “We _did_ promise we’d visit at Thanksgiving and tell him all about Boston.”

“And I can’t have Betty Cooper breaking her promises now, can I?” Jughead agrees.

Betty laughs, pulling him by the arm toward the diner, knowing as well as he does that his mind has clearly been made up. He finally locks the car behind them, suddenly excited at the prospect of being somewhere so familiar and warm.

As expected, Pop immediately runs around the diner counter to greet them with giant hugs, the kind of welcome a small part of Jughead had hoped to receive from FP this afternoon. 

“You two look great,” Pop gushes as he follows the pair to the corner booth, blissfully empty. “Boston certainly agrees with you.”

Betty blushes and returns the compliment as they both shrug off their thrifted jackets. Betty’s pink corduroy jacket has been a near-constant presence in their new life in Somerville, and as she unwraps a paisley scarf she bought on one of their weekend escapades, Jughead almost forgets he should stop staring and pay attention to what Pop is telling them about a town scandal over Halloween. 

“We love it there,” Jughead says, and he can feel the proud smile Betty shoots him all the way to his toes.

“Your usuals, I presume?” Pop Tate asks, smiling at the look they share. He’s always catching them in moments like that. He _has_ known them forever, so Jughead supposes it’s his right.

“Yes, please!” Betty chirps and Jughead nods his own approval. 

Jughead watches Betty look around briefly. Pop’s isn’t too packed, though they’ve seen countless people flit in and out to grab take-out orders, a Thanksgiving eve tradition for many in Riverdale.

“Feels like home,” she says when she returns her gaze to Jughead with a slight smile. 

Just then, Pop sidles up with their milkshakes. “Bless you, Pop!” Jughead says, taking a hearty sip. “God, I missed this.”

“I missed you guys too,” Pop says, giving Jughead’s shoulder a squeeze. Pop sighs as the door dings open and another couple of customers picking up take-out orders roll in. “Your food’s coming right up, kids,” he promises before bustling off again.

Jughead gratefully sips his milkshake as Betty rustles through her purse for her familiar notepad and pen, something Jughead knows she never leaves home without. 

“Let’s make a list for tomorrow,” Betty says, smoothing over a fresh sheet of paper. Jughead grins, taking a minute to just take in this beautiful girl.

“What?” she says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Just loving this familiar sight,” Jughead says. “You, making a list, in Pop’s.”

Betty grins, cute little spots of pink bursting across her face. “It _is_ familiar, isn’t it?” She taps a little dot in the corner of the page and says, “Now, I _know_ we need flour, eggs, butter…” 

And she’s off.

.

.

.

And so Betty and Toni’s reunion occurs an hour later, rather unceremoniously in a Hannaford parking lot: excited squeals followed by a prolonged hug while Sweet Pea and Jughead bump fists and then stand off to the side, patiently waiting. 

“Reunited in a suburban parking lot,” Jughead quips. 

“I think it’s poetic actually,” Toni says. “Now shall we?”

Inside, Betty, Toni, and Jughead pause to grab shopping baskets, whereas Sweet Pea just grabs a shopping cart and heads for the baking aisle. 

“Sweet Pea will take care of the pies,” Toni explains to a bemused Betty and Jughead. “It’s his thing.”

Jughead holds his hands up in surrender. “Who am I to keep a man from his pies? Especially if he’s planning on sharing with me.” 

Toni laughs and Jughead turns in confusion when he doesn’t hear Betty’s usual amused chuckle joining in.

Betty’s frown makes Jughead promptly stop his joking, turning to his girlfriend to say, “yes?”

“One hour till this store closes, and we have a lot of ground to cover,” Betty says, the words bursting out so quickly that it’s very clear she’d been waiting not-so-patiently to say them.

“Always keeping us on track,” Toni says, throwing an arm around her friend. “I missed you, Coop.”

After scouring every inch of the store and Betty only having to mediate two disputes about sufficient side dishes, the group heads back to the Northside.

Jughead can’t help but chuckle to himself at the image: just four snarky, denim-jacketed college kids laden with armfuls of brown paper bags holding all the provisions needed for an unconventional Thanksgiving feast. 

“My pies are gonna kick your ass, Jones,” Sweet Pea brags as they wait for Betty to unlock the front door while balancing a grocery bag on her hip. 

“Uh...good? I think?” Jughead replies as Toni snorts with laughter.

Back in the Cooper kitchen, Jughead pours their guests glasses of water while Betty and Toni unpack and sort their purchases. He can’t help but smirk at Betty, memories of what they’d done in here mere hours earlier floating through his mind. 

Jughead and Sweet Pea rip open a bag of potato chips, munching on them at the counter while Betty pulls out her ever-faithful notepad to finalize their guest list.

“Only you could pull this off with less than 24 hours’ notice,” Toni says, impressed.

Betty laughs, taking a mock bow. “If we split this list up, we’ll be done in no time.”

“Good,” Sweet Pea says, pulling a joint out of his jacket pocket in a semi-dramatic reveal. “I have the perfect reward for our hard work when we’re done.”

“Now that’s what I call motivation,” Jughead quips.

Between texts and a couple phone calls, the four of them burn through their short guest list pretty quickly: 

Veronica’s an enthusiastic yes—“Bless you, B! You’re giving me an excuse to slip out of the Lodge family celebration even earlier than usual!”

Ethel’s a maybe—“if I can convince my parents to let me leave after dinner,” she tells Toni. For shits and giggles, Toni replies, “Feel free to bring Ben! We miss him.” Even Ethel snorts at that one.

Kevin agrees to come for dessert, possibly with Moose in tow. “Wow, they’re still going strong,” Betty remarks when she receives his text back.

Sweet Pea’s call wakes up a very-stoned Fangs, who testily reminds Sweet Pea he’d already been invited earlier. “I’ll be there, dumbass,” he says before hanging up and returning to his “power nap.”

Jughead is assigned to Archie. His old friend texts back almost immediately, a genuine-sounding message that he would totally be there, but Fred and Archie are visiting Mary in Chicago this year. 

_Say hi to the family for me_ , Jughead types back, a small smile on his face accompanied by a pang of sadness at the definite knowledge that he won’t see Archie until Christmas. 

Most of their younger friends like Melody and Valerie have family visiting from out of town and can’t join them, but the Black Friday reunion field hockey game they’d scheduled the next morning would be a time to see one another, so Betty and Toni don’t complain too much.

Their list exhausted, the group throws their jackets back on and file out into Betty’s backyard, reminiscing about inside jokes from their end-of-summer party as they huddle up together to smoke the joint. Betty grins when it’s passed to her, taking two generous hits before passing to Jug. Toni winks at her, knowing that both Betty and Jughead have started smoking a lot more since they moved to Boston. Unlike in New York, weed is decriminalized there, and nearly everyone seems to smoke. They still both like it better than drinking, and Jughead recently learned to roll. 

Toni tells a hilarious story from her first dorm party at Smith, and as the joint burns down to a stub, Jughead winds his arm around Betty’s shoulder and squeezes tight. She leans into his body weight, and he knows she must be exhausted. Long drive aside, it had been _a day_ , complete with an entire rollercoaster of emotions.

So when the joint finally burns out and Sweet Pea says, “Hey, me and Toni are gonna go meet Fangs at a Thanksgiving Eve party on the Southside. Y’all tryna tag along?” Jughead knows exactly what to say.

“I think we’re too wiped for that, but thanks,” he says quickly, Betty squeezing his shoulder gratefully.

“We’ll see you tomorrow though?” Betty says, separating from Jughead for long enough to hug Toni.

“You know it! It’s gonna be the best Friendsgiving ever,” Toni says, blowing Betty and Jughead kisses as they head back into the house and toward the front door. 

* * *

Betty lets out a momentary sigh of relief when the door shuts behind Toni and Sweet Pea, leaving Betty and Jughead all alone in the suddenly huge-feeling house.

Jughead grabs their bags off the floor—they’d left for Pop’s so suddenly that they never quite brought them up to Betty’s room. “Wow,” Betty says at this realization, and she and Jughead share a smirk.

Cheekily, Jughead says, “So, what do you want to do now that we’re alone, Betty Cooper?”

As they walk up the stairs with their bags, Betty bites her lip, thinking hard. “Hmm...I mean, what’s the one thing we’ve wanted to do for _months_?”

Jughead laughs flirtatiously. “Oh, I can think of something.”

Betty sighs. “To be honest, Jug, I’m pretty wiped after all that driving and shopping and planning.”

They finally reach Betty’s bedroom, and she’s far more relieved and excited to see her pink sheets and spotless carpet than she’d ever expected she would upon returning home.

“Oh, no, I wasn’t thinking _that,_ ” Jughead says. “Our kitchen escapades have held me over until at _least_ tomorrow morning.”

Betty grins, dropping her weekend bag to the bed and unzipping it. 

“I was thinking of the _other_ thing we’ve been dying to do for months.”

A huge smile spreads across Betty’s face as she retrieves pajamas and a toiletry bag. “ _Yes_!” she says, giving Jughead a big kiss before running into her bathroom to wash up.

They end their night the way they’ve been craving for months of deadlines and getting lost on campus and putting themselves out there with new friends. There’s nowhere Betty would rather be than here: warm and loved, snuggled up as close as humanly possible with Jughead in her childhood bed, just watching Netflix from the soft glow of her laptop.

**Author's Note:**

> i'd love to hear what you thought, as always!


End file.
